Permafrost
by KadiToka-Chii
Summary: He was the crazy killer clown that found itself checking under the bed and in the closet, to ensure that the never-changing ice queen wouldn't be lurking in his fantasies.


**Permafrost**

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||Yes, tis I, uploading something during the month of November and during NaNoWriMo, which I said I wouldn't do… however, I am comfortably ahead on my word count, and while happily strolling through past pages of this little archive, I came across a certain Vexos love challenge… for specifically, a challenge to write some Shadow x Mylene. And I thought, I intend to write many Vexos fanfics anyways, I have extra time, and the pairing is certainly something I find plausible and actually quite enjoy… why not?

**Also, I will be referring to my made-up past for dear Shadow-kun from _One Of The First_. Because I can. He doesn't have any canon past yet, so I'll just be sticking to my fanon one.**

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||Disclaimer: I do not own Bakugan. If I did, the Vexos would have gotten actual backstories.

**||Shadow x Mylene, Shadow-centric/POV. I personally find it kind of OOC, but we'll see what you think… and it turned out to seem a bit more like friendship or something… damn…**

**||He was the crazy killer clown that found itself checking under the bed and in the closet, to ensure that the never-changing ice queen wouldn't be lurking in his fantasies.**

* * *

The Probe mansion was located far up north, surrounded by serenely threatening icefields, a vision of crystalline white and deep shadows that were thrown into sharp relief by giant crags and vigilantly pointed peaks. The perfect place to hide away the precious nobles, keep them safe from the commoners, the scum and the assassins. A dominion of danger that no sane person would even think twice about crossing without some sort of vehicle of protection.

And that was exactly why Shadow spent much of his childhood either pining and failing to go play outside, or succeeding in escaping to that quietly oppressing terrain.

The immensity of it all made him feel insignificant, small in this monochrome world of powder and icicles. It was frightening in its entirety, in its indifference to his existence… and yet, time after time, he would kick away his apprehension and wander back outside… he guessed that, maybe, it was because of the consistent cold.

He had never minded the cold. In fact, he found he quite enjoyed it; each frigid draft, every biting drop in temperature, sent a thrill singing through his veins. He couldn't explain it, how the chill could make him want to run and scream and play more and more and more, and it could do nothing to hold him back…

He just liked it.

* * *

When they had first been introduced, he had been fascinated; each of her features were fine, distinct and nigh flawless; a queen who held herself with dignity and command, her skin of smooth snow, each shadow and colour adding breathtaking effect.

She had looked at him for a total of five seconds, _exactly_; enough time for her to scrutinize his wildly spiked hair, his dark and intimidating ensemble, the lax stance, his glittering red eyes and the smug look on his face.

And then he heard her voice, bitter and disdainful, for the first time…

"You honestly couldn't find anything better than this _fool?_"

* * *

That was not to be the end of the sardonic name-calling and contemptuous comments, not by a long shot. They seemed to be flung at him with barely restrained hostility every _second_ of every _moment_ they were forced together, in order to 'create some sort of bond that a reasonable enough partnership could be met'.

He responded with uncivilized jokes and rash antics, almost all of which had backfired on him, and all of which later subjected him to a verbal beating.

And so he decided that she was just _so_ supremely unfriendly, she just couldn't see the _fun_ in his actions. And so he pledged to help her see those fun things.

* * *

There was one insult she always paid him that he found himself taking a liking to; 'clown'. Perhaps it was because he could replace the first few adjectives that accompanied it (these including insufferable, moronic, gullible, inane, witless, pathetic…), and replace them with the two descriptions he always found suited clowns…

Crazy and killer.

The crazy killer clown.

Now, _that_ was something he could go by and flaunt about a little bit.

How _proud_ he was every time he imagined her calling him that…

* * *

After a while, he decided she wasn't simply _unfriendly_…

She was a terrifying and vindictive goddess of _death_ that would feed on your terror and panic with that gloatingly impersonal smile, worn on what _she_ called a nice day, and what the others referred to as 'Doomsday'.

They all whispered about her and her severe glares, her need to be in control, her disinterest in anything other than a way to power and domination. And they all tried to deny their fear of her through accusing others of being the cowards.

Like when Shadow had bragged about being able to look her in the eye, those hard gems of frost that could cut right through you if she gave you the right look, for an entire 30 seconds, to which Lync had answered with a snort; "Oh please… she's the _ice queen_. Even a big bad '_crazy killer clown_' like you checks under your bed to make sure she won't slit your throat in the middle of the night."

And because that remark stung and wounded his masculine pride (and because he had been spooked by the accuracy of Lync's statement), Shadow threw a plate at his head.

… And it didn't even _hit_ him… stupid rat was so bloody _fast_…

* * *

He found himself wondering why she hasn't changed. They'd been partners for months now, one would think she would be softening to what he called his natural charm and pleasurable company… but _no_. He couldn't even make those glossed lips of hers quirk for a brief second, couldn't melt away the icy defense on her expressions. She's simply impossible to faze.

So he tried harder, pushing away his fear and bombarding her with boasts, wails, sulks, tantrums, flirts...

It's a task as hopeless as trying to single-handedly move an iceberg by one's self, or standing alone with no protection in the middle of a blizzard. It's something no sane person would do.

So that's why Shadow kept trying.

* * *

It wasn't just apprehension that made him suggest that they come back quietly, keep away from the public eye; it was flat out dread for what was to come. But his pleads and ideas simply bounced off of her and her ambitions; she wanted to come back in a blaze of glory.

And so the second Shadow was back on Vestal soil, _they_ had pounced.

The weeping servants and spazzing caretakers, showering him in cries of gratitude, relief and fierce admonitions for deceiving them to go on some crazy, foolhardy trip to a world he knew nothing about, and he could have gotten hurt, or killed, or turned into a suicidal lunatic, and heavens child, what _were_ you possibly thinking?

And without a single breath between the scoldings, someone had turned towards the rest of the Vexos and thanked them, with the most courteous, respectful smiles and words, for taking care of dear Lord Shadow and making sure he hadn't hurt himself, and it would be their _honour_ to take the three of them into their humble manor, since they _were_ national heros and the palace was just a _mess_, what with recent events…

And the three of them didn't even give a thought to the possibility that Shadow didn't want them hanging around.

What _considerate_ teammates…

* * *

"Hey... why does everything look so _different?_"

His head butler, a stout and bushy-haired pompous old jerk by the name of Wilfred, gave the noble a baffled look, squinting through tiny spectacles as Shadow leaned sullenly against the window, looking down with darkened eyes as he tuned out the forcefully polite chattering of his teammates, sitting in the 'entertainment room' of the private airship. "Lord Shadow, _whatever_ could you mean?"

From this height, the piercingly sloped land looked entirely _wrong_… the wildly silent lands he had braved as a child seem softer, smaller, as though it's been slowly shrinking away in misery, having lost that defiant little soul that had wandered them weekly.

It no longer looked dangerous. And he had no idea as to whether he was pleased or disappointed.

"Ah…" Wilfred nodded wisely as he followed Shadow's gaze, sighing. "Well, it has been your first time leaving this land, and you've been gone for quite a while… of course it would look slightly off to you. Lord Shadow, it's always been changing… you've simply never been able to notice."

"…"

"Erm, perhaps I should put this in… ah…" Wilfred fiddled with his glasses, coughing nervously, "a tad _simpler_ concept… you see, Lord Shadow… ice _melts_."

Shadow said nothing in response, just continued to stare outward with a curiously pensive expression, mulling over those two words as Wilfred continued to babble, spouting out whatever crap about how slowly a rate that an expanse such as this would be melting at, and no one without a sharp eye for details would _ever _notice, and then something about changing temperatures, blah blah blah…

_Ice melts_.

* * *

As usual, he acts like an overly hyperactive idiot as he bounces around her down the posh hallway, begging, whining, trying to sweet talk her into going outside in subzero weather, _just_ so they could look around like fools looking to get themselves frost bite.

It takes days of doggedly following her around the mansion with the same keening beseeches and a great deal of courage, but he finally managed to convince her. If just for a second's look around the old icefields. And reveling in this rare, one in a lifetime victory, this small crack in her glacial armor, he tangles his hand in hers unexpectedly and drags her out, only absentmindedly noticing the flinch of the surpisingly warm, soft hand.

The second her foot left the closed-in warmth of the doorway, she faltered and wavered, like a feeble and resentful drop of water slowly coursing its way down a thick block of ice.

And he turned to her with that huge, arrogant grin of his; a grin that would make any stubborn mass of crystallic snow simply dissolve away into a serene, clear puddle. "What's the matter, ice queen? Got a problem with a little bit of _snow?_"

With a frustrated, indignant little sigh, and a brief upward twitch of her lips, Mylene follows Shadow into his disappearing world of formidability.

* * *

**||… *is not satisfied with ending in the least*… *decides to just live with it* Anyways, there you go… so far, my first attempt at romance… it's a bit scattered, and won't entirely make sense unless if you have the insight to see what I attempted and **_**failed**_** to do… feh.**

**Anyways, I actually enjoyed writing this… I've actually wanted to write something using the title 'Permafrost' for a long time… just ANYTHING… but when I was writing this and choosing the title, I didn't even think of it until I was eating perogies… funny, huh? Not really, but, you know…**

**Anyways… this may possibly be my only Shadow x Mylene fic, unless I can think of another really good idea… if I have the time, I want to try my hand at Spectra x Gus x Mira… just because I have a fascination with it at the moment. Particularly Gus x Mira… oh, darling Gus, in all of what I am **_**sure**_** is your bisexuality…**

**Just for the record, I will totally suck at adding in the Spectra part of it all, because I am by no means a yaoi writer. It's just that particular triangle that enraptures me…**


End file.
